


Nothing We Can Do

by TheSupremeShadowOverlord



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Because I can, Crocodile Tears era, era?, headcannon, yeah during that book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSupremeShadowOverlord/pseuds/TheSupremeShadowOverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So remember when those guys grabbed Alex in Crocodile Tears?  I always wondered about them.  I mean, were they henchman, independently employed, did they regret it because he's so young, what were their thoughts like, and so on.  So this is the car/van ride after they kidnapped Alex because I feel like it should exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing We Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> No, I do not own the rights to Alex Rider and I don't earn any money from this. Either of those things would be lovely though. *sighs*

The three men sped away from Chelsea, London in the FedEx van that blended into the busy city life seamlessly. Not a single pedestrian gave them a second glance, as no one could have possibly guessed what lay inside the innocent appearing vehicle.

The two dressed in overalls that were standard for delivery men sat in the front seats, playing the part of loyal employes while the man previously dressed as a police officer began to peel off his blue and silver costume and becoming an average person in the back, keeping a wary eye on their captive.

Luck had been on their side. They had made their getaway before the streets had filled and were on their way to their reward money.

The delivery man in the passenger seat glanced nervously back at what they were being paid so well to deliver; a schoolboy, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen years old.

He shuddered inwardly at the memory of the feel of the boys’ limp body collapsing in his arms after he had sunk the hypodermic needle into the youngers’ skin. The blond had been struggling so ferociously moments before and then the life had drained from him, leaving the unconscious body to be supported by his enemy.

Again, he turned to look at the boys’ crumpled form. They had tied his hands and feet together, though there was almost no chance he would awaken until they had arrived at their destination. One could never be to careful, hence the extra needle and the backup fake police officer.

It certainly had been a more difficult fight than expected. The target had thrown everything at them, smashing the first needle into the other false delivery mans’ chest. The remnants of the toxin it contained were still staining his shirt, causing him to grumble for a full two minutes about hating this stupid job before falling silent and focusing on the road.

“Dammit Henry, quit staring at the kid, you’re freaking me out!” insisted the no-longer-disguised third operative in the back. “Now I’m expecting him to pop up any minute because all the funny looks you’re giving him, so cut it out!”

Henry grumbled a meaningless apology and slumped into his seat. This job had taken everything a step too far, and he was no longer comfortable with it. He was fine with doing the occasional dirty work of criminals, but kidnapping a young boy? Hell, he had a niece the same age!

Oh god, his niece. . . how could he face her now? It was never a problem before, he would do the small jobs and get paid enough to get by. Everyone had to make a living somehow, so what if his wasn’t quite as nobel as others? He never did anything to directly hurt anyone, no one was truly harmed as Henry had always told himself. He needed the money to survive, and that was that.

The driver glanced his way, giving him a skeptical look. “Henry, you look like someone killed your puppy. What’s with you today?”

Henry sighed. “It’s just. . . he’s a kid, you know? He shouldn’t be involved in this.”

At the same time, all three of them glanced at the sleeping form beside the third operative in the trunk. His blond hair had fallen over half his face, but his features were still discernible. Henry recalled his brown eyes, blown wide with realization just before they had attacked.

Now that his eyes were closed and the lines of his faced smoothed out, he looked even younger than he had when they first received the picture of their target.

“His name is Alex,” Myra Bennett had told then, looking smug and important standing in front of them with a self-assured attitude. She had told them where to find him, his skill set (though they could hardly believe her) and only supplied his name when asked. She hadn’t bothered to tell his last name. There was no need and they were working on a strictly need-to-know basis.

“We need you to get him for us, alive, using whatever means necessary.”

Now the job was almost done, and Henry was yet to get over the fact that this was a kid, and whatever that women wanted with him couldn’t be good, not with that malevolent smile she wore so deservingly.

He suspected she worked for someone else as well from the way she passed along the orders and commands, but he didn’t care who. You couldn’t, if you wanted to survive in this business.

None of his accomplices had responded to his earlier statement. How could they? Henry was right, they had just ripped a child from his life, and for what? Money.

What kind of people had they become?

It was the man sitting by their target and giving the boy a long, forlorn look that said more than the words he uttered that spoke first, breaking the insufferable silence; “There’s nothing we can do about it. Not now, anyway.”

The two others knew what he meant. If they didn’t deliver, they would disappear. Killed in a back ally and dumped where they wouldn’t be found. Helping their target would mean ensuring their own deaths.

Henry’s head felt leadened by the honesty. It was true, it was too late to do anything to help this boy.

But that didn’t stop the painful twist of his stomach as he spared on last glance at the resting form in the back of the van- on Alex.


End file.
